Stories

So some of my friends like to poke fun of the fact that I can’t tell a story. They say I tell long boring stories that never get anywhere, and never have a point.

Every time they point that out, it reminds me of this guy I met on my mission…

Well I was serving in my second area, I had been out 6-7 months and I was serving in Pitsanulok. Pitsanulok was a fun town on a river. The river was great, there were people that lived on boats that doubled as houses. But it made for a lot of bridges in this city, and that wasn’t fun to bike over…

Especially…

When my bike didn’t come in from my first area for several weeks. See at the beginning of my mission we used a mailing system similar to UPS for mailing bikes. They weren’t very fast for mailing bikes. So I had to use the loaner bike for the first few weeks I was there. It was a little kid’s ten speed. I crashed it and almost died… the bike belonged to a great member family…

Which reminds me…

One time they took us out to a waterfall on P-day, and they also took us out to the Hmong village outside of the city. It was awesome, up in these hills away from everything. It was great to get away from the city…

Anyway…

The guy this whole blog is about lived by the bus station. It was funny how much of these cities outside of Bangkok were ruled by either a bus station, or a train station. Sometimes both. If the railroad went through a city, then the bus station was usually within walking distance of the train station. And that makes sense. Around the trains stations lots of businesses would thrive. 7-11s, CD stores, electronics stores, and even guitar stores were always centered around the bus station. I wonder if the businesses were there first or if the bus station was there first. I guess its like a chicken and an egg type thing.

And…

Eggs are another thing. I was in that city when the bird flue really took Thailand in 2004. Nobody ate chicken, or eggs for a few months. That was really sad, because Khaw Man Kai, was one of my favorite Thai dishes for breakfast. That was just chicken on top of a chicken-broth rice.

Anyway, this whole story was about this guy that wasn’t very good at telling stories. He couldn’t get to the point, and went off on tangents.

I don’t think I’m at all like him.

So on...

This is a song I wrote about our recent discussion, but I wrote it a while ago. The pictures are me just trying to be sweet for Valentine's Day.   

I've never been all that impressed by my singing... and neither has anyone else. But I have always been a huge fan of my wicked harmonica solo in the middle.

Take my wife... Please!

My wife blogged about her incorrect perception of our first date earlier this week.  In her blog, she committed libel by publishing incorrect information about how things actually are, in contrast to her own skewed, and wrong opinion.  If what she says is true, then I would have kissed her on our first date, but I surely would never commit such an act.  

She tried to sway her audience by talking on, and on, and on...(you think her blog is bad, you should live with her!) about how our date to Beowulf was actually a date, and how it differed from our date to the TCU game.  You will notice that I refer to our date to Beowulf as "our date" because it was in fact a date; but our date to the TCU game was also a date.  

To prove this I will examine the felicity conditions of a date, that is what makes a date a date? My simple answer and definition would be this: a social appointment, engagement, or occasion arranged beforehand with another person.  A date usually has the connotation (particularly in our culture, and in this valley) of courtship.  And the third pillar of what makes a date a date, is there should be an activity.  Planning to hang out ahead of time on a couch watching TV meets two of the three requirements, but does not meet all three and is therefore, not a date.  

  Some, my wife included, would argue that one (usually the male) must pay for the other for it to be a date.  She even argues that I did not pay for her to get in, therefore it could not have been a date.  To that I say phooey.  I did not pay for her to get in, because I did not know her when she bought her all sports pass, and therefore am justified in not paying for the ticket to the TCU game.  In addition to that, I have long argued that while I did not pay the price of her admission, I did pay for a hot chocolate.  She admits this was a nice thing to do, and to that I say "you're friggin' welcome!"

In the history of dating, roommates have always been a thorn in every bachelor's side.  Shortly after the wheel was invented, the the third wheel was sure to follow.  While having a third wheel along for the ride can make for some awkward situations, the third wheel being there does not void a date's status.  

Because the TCU game fulfills all of the felicity conditions of what I, and the rest of the world consider to be a date, it is therefore a date.  

This chart shows how 100 people questioned about this date responded.

I have a theory as to why Alyssa refuses to admit she is wrong.  When on a date, one must chew gum while juggling chainsaws, and singing God Save the Queen..... in a manner of speaking.  You have to do a lot of things at the same time.  Listen to them talk, respond thoughtfully, look them in the eye, keep from farting, don't check out any other girls, don't text anyone, all while trying to look your best, smell your best and act your best to impress.  It can be quite intimidating.  Alyssa, dropped the ball.  She was a horrible date.  She gave her number to another guy, talked for about 20 minutes to a guy that was obviously interested in her that wasn't me, and played the "guess which candy-bar I'm thinking of as I caress your leg" with Kelson.  I think that she feels so horrible for being on such bad behavior on our first date that she has created this story that our first date was one where she was better behaved.

Better behaved? She still put out on what she thought was her first date.

I'm okay with that though.